


Zutara Week 2020

by cablesscutie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: A collection of my pieces for Zutara Week 2020
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57
Collections: Zutara Week 2020





	1. Reunion

This prompt became a new chapter for my Single Parents AU, _Moons and Junes and Ferris Wheels_ [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059226/chapters/62272597).


	2. Counterpart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's always us."

Katara is surprised by how easily she accepts Zuko’s invitation to join him in traveling to defeat Azula and claim his throne. When Iroh said he could not defeat his sister alone, she’d somehow expected him to request Sokka, who had helped him fend her off at The Boiling Rock and returned as a good friend, or Toph who was an unmatched fighter and had taken to Zuko quickly. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would ask her, who had distrusted and threatened him, and only forgiven him just recently, but when the question comes, the words come to her easily.

“It would be my pleasure.”

They take to the skies on Appa, and Zuko is quiet, contemplative. Assuming he’s nervous about facing his sister, Katara tries to offer reassurance, but that’s not what’s on his mind at all.

“I’m worried about Aang.” She shakes her head and tries to find that endless faith that has driven her all over the world, but finds it harder to grab hold of now. Her comforting words fall flat, and she knows that she has barely convinced herself much less Zuko. He frowns, and her hand on his arm squeezes, drawing his attention back.

“Listen. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Aang any more than you do, but I _am_ certain that it’s going to turn out alright.”

“How could you possibly be sure of that?” He sounds bewildered and almost angry at her optimism. “We’re a bunch of kids. It was one thing when we were fighting amongst each other - my father is a totally different story. He’s a monster.” Unconsciously, Katara leans closer to him, until their foreheads are almost touching. Gone is the red comet sky, the bison’s saddle, even the clothes that mark them as being from different nations. All she can see is the gold of his eyes, and he knows hers must be all he can see too. It’s good, she thinks. That’s all they need, and suddenly she finds the right words to offer him.

“I’m sure because every time we face down the impossible, it comes down to you and me. And this time, we’re fighting beside each other.” Zuko is quiet for a moment, considering her words, but she holds his gaze, willing him to remember the same moments she is: the two of them at the North Pole, steam hissing as their blows collided, the battle tipping back and forth with the rise and fall of the moon and sun; the air humid with their battle again in a glowing cave as his fire bent into the same whips as her water, slashing at each other; and at last the way they moved together in silent understanding and deadly strength search for Yon Rah; the way they were paired together to train against the “Melon Lord” again and again, knowing each other’s strikes and dodges blind.

When he nods, she can feel his hair brush ever so slightly against her forehead. It tickles, and the sensation lingers in a way that she knows will echo until she wipes it away, but she holds still. “It’s always us,” he agrees, and she feels a flutter in her chest at the way he says it, like there is more than one meaning behind the words. His forehead finally touches hers as he sags in relief, and she lets go of his arm to wrap him in a hug. It is returned without hesitation, and she thinks that maybe this is what he’d needed all along - to be held, to have a promise that whatever happens next, he will not endure it alone.

“I won’t leave you,” she whispers, and does not comment on the way his breath hitches. “You’re not going to do this alone.” He nods again, and she releases him to wipe a wayward tear from his cheek.

As they settle back into the saddle, Zuko takes one of Katara’s hands in both of his, folding it in warmth and hard-earned callouses. He fidgets with her fingers, and the gentleness makes her feel unbearably fond as much as his nerves make her sad.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says, the mirror to her own promise, spoken with the reverence of a vow.

Later, with the fires in the courtyard burning like the blood red sky, he will make good on that promise, and no lighting will touch her.

Later, as the comet passes and the moon rises, she will kneel over him and complete the vow again, his heart beating steady under her hands.


	3. Fuse

As the fires of Zuko and Azula’s Agni Kai burn in stripes across the scorched courtyard, a fuse is lit inside Katara. She feels it burn in her chest, and as she launches herself into battle against the princess, she thinks it must be the hottest her rage has ever blazed, hotter even than the blue of Azula’s comet-fueled bending. She pictures it burning in a thousand flickering shades like Zuko and Aang had described dragon fire, keeps it in her breath as she exhales and melts the ice surrounding her to chain up the princess. It consumes the air in her lungs as she kneels over Zuko, feeling how his chest is also full of fire, and tries to pull it inside herself instead.

* * *

Zuko wakes for good in his bed in the palace, with Katara sitting at the edge of the mattress. She is leaned over him, fussing with the sheets to keep them off his wound, always fussing with something. When her bending had stopped making progress, the royal physician had brought one cream that would numb the skin, and another that would keep the scar tissue pliable for when he could move around again. Katara had refused to let anyone else tend to him though, not trusting anyone who came from the palace that had done nothing but hurt Zuko all his life. All the while, the fire has sunk into her stomach, simmering low and steady, ready to flare white hot again should anyone step out of line.

* * *

When she boards her father’s ship, bound for the South Pole, he clasps forearms with Hakoda, with Sokka, and then she feels a smile split her face when he tries to offer her a warrior’s goodbye as well. She feels the respect in the gesture, the way he is trying to honor her equally to the men of her family, so she accepts it, basks in it, and then promptly yanks him off balance and into a hug the moment he releases her. He trips on his long robes at the unexpected shift in balance. When he stumbles into her embrace, Katara feels his lips just brush her shoulder. Every time she thinks of him while she’s home, the skin feels hot and tingling and tender.

* * *

Katara is seated beside Zuko on the second day of the next trade summit, which she is fairly certain was someone’s clever idea to tame her quick temper after she had blown up at Zuko’s treasury minister within minutes of the first day’s meeting being called to order. She had fumed all through the rest of the meeting, giving no quarter as arguments were made and grown men shrank back in fear. It was only when the meeting called a recess for lunch and Zuko escorted her to eat with him in private that she was calmed. Clearly, whoever was in charge of seating arrangements attributed it to some kind of soothing effect Zuko’s presence had. _Joke’s on them_ , she thought to herself as she prepared to read an Earth Kingdom envoy the riot act. All Zuko had done was reassure her that while his ministers had general input and held power over most day-to-day operations, the Fire Lord reserved the right to overrule them at any time, and Zuko agreed wholeheartedly with Katara. The fussy old men could try to sway him, but Katara had already won.

And she fully intended to win this too. Taking a sip of water and a deep breath, she wound herself up to unleash a torrent of criticism on that self-important bureaucrat. Zuko knew all the warning signs of Katara preparing to dress someone down, and just as her lips parted, he reached out under the table. The sudden warm press of his hand on her thigh makes the words die in her chest and flames rise to her cheeks. Under his breath, Zuko says, “Don’t worry about him, he hasn’t got enough power to think he can hold things up. He’ll sign whatever the rest of us come up with.” She nods, clears her throat delicately and takes a sip of water since the fire in her face has completely dried out her mouth.

* * *

When it’s time to leave the Fire Nation, Katara finds she doesn’t want to just yet. Despite the annoying diplomats and parties full of too much subtle political maneuvering, her days here have also been filled with tea and dinner and long walks with Zuko. She was surprised by how much she’d missed him, and now that she’s gotten so much time with him, she isn’t ready to give it up just yet. So she dawdles packing up her things in the guest room, re-doing her trunk three times because she tells herself that her dresses will crease terribly if she doesn’t get them folded _just right_. As if Katara has ever cared about creases in her clothing before, much less at home with her father and Gran-Gran.

Her bedroom door creaks open, and Katara turns to tell her brother that she’s almost ready and to just leave her alone, but the words die when she sees Zuko standing there, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.

“Your brother’s looking for you,” he says. “I told him you were saying goodbye to Uncle.” Katara smiles at him, always so pleased to find how well he knows her.

“Thanks.” This seems to relax him, and he finally enters the room fully.

“No problem.” Zuko leans against the bedpost next to her, taking in the bed still covered with her things and the empty trunk. “It’s not like you to put off packing,” he observes. Katara feels her cheeks heat up. There is no point in lying to Zuko, not when he probably already half-knows her reasons. He wouldn’t have sent her brother on a wild goose chase and come to find her himself otherwise.

“I wish I didn’t have to go just yet. I would’ve liked a few more days without meetings. Just to have fun.” Zuko nods.

“I would’ve liked that too. Seems like we’re always running out of time, the two of us.”

Her heart stutters in her chest. His meaning is unmistakable, and she feels overwhelmed because _he’s felt it too. It wasn’t just in my head._ All that tension, the longing...she’d thought it was just her, but no.

“Maybe next time,” she says hopefully, turning her eyes to his face, watching as he understands what she’s promising and starts to smile.

“Next time,” he promises back. When he leans forward and kisses her, the fuse burns down to her toes, and everything in Katara fizzes and pops like a firework.


End file.
